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#or two hehe
leiawritesstories · 1 year
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23. “What do you mean? I’m just making these cards for the kids.” “What kids?!”
have fun 😁🎉
😁😁😁😁😁 oh this was SO FUN hehehe thank you for the prompt! :D
word count: ~1.1k
warnings: mentions of infertility
enjoy!
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"Good gods."
Aelin glanced up at the sound of her husband's voice. "What?"
Rowan made a vague gesture at the chaos sprawled all over the dining room table. "Um..."
She laughed. "Oh, you mean the Christmas card factory."
"Yeah..." His brows furrowed. "You want to explain?"
"What's wrong with making Christmas cards, buzzard?" She left the one she was working on atop the table and came over to him, looping her arms around his waist and beaming.
"Nothing," he chuckled, kissing her softly. "It's just, well, that's a heck of a lot of cards, Fireheart. You sending them out general delivery?"
She flicked his nose. "What do you mean? I've got it all planned out--there's some for our family and friends, some for our coworkers, and some for the kids."
Rowan's brain stalled.
"What kids?" he breathed, a flicker of hope crossing his face.
Aelin pressed her lips together and shook her head once, leaning closer into her husband. "Not...not like that."
"I'm sorry, Fireheart," he murmured, pressing his wife close to his heart.
They'd been trying to get pregnant for several years now and so far had had no success. Aelin met regularly with her fertility doctor, took all the preparatory vitamins, did everything she could to try and help her body understand that she wanted a baby, but so far, nothing. She knew infertility ran in her family, knew that her mother had only been able to have her, but still--both she and Rowan wanted a family.
"They're for the kids at Orynth Children's," she finally whispered, looking up at him. "Elide told me about the program, and I have some time, so why not?"
Elide was a pediatric surgeon at Orynth Children's Hospital, and she'd worked with several of her colleagues to expand the program through which the children in the hospital received Christmas gifts. She knew how much Aelin loved art and design and spending time with the children in recovery, so this was perfect for her.
"That's wonderful," Rowan murmured, kissing the top of her head. "You want me to help?"
Her lips quirked up. "If you want to, of course."
~
As she stacked up all the cards she was bringing to the children's hospital, Aelin set one aside, hiding the green envelope in the stack that was for friends and family. That one was Rowan's card.
She parked in the visitor lot like Elide had instructed her and walked inside, carrying the stack of cards and the box of stuffed animals that she'd collected at her workplace. The receptionist smiled at her as she came in.
"Mrs. Whitethorn?"
"That's me," Aelin grinned.
"Perfect." The lady handed her a nametag on a lanyard. "This will give you the access you'll need. Dr. Lochan should be down soon."
"Thanks." Aelin set down her box and slipped on the nametag, only waiting a few minutes before Elide walked through the double doors from the hospital, grinning at her friend.
"Ae!"
"Ells!" Aelin gave her dear friend a quick hug.
"Those are so cute," Elide beamed, looking into the box of stuffed animals. "The kids are going to love them."
"I hope so."
Aelin followed Elide into the hospital, keeping a couple steps behind the petite woman in her pastel green scrubs. Elide led her up to the main recovery floor and introduced her to the current staff team, all of whom would be helping to pass out this batch of gifts. So Aelin took her load of cards and followed Elide through the rooms, smiling and laughing and saying a few kind words to the children.
And ignoring how her heart squeezed a little more with each visit she made.
She came home to the warm, comforting scent of Rowan's cooking, kicking off her shoes behind the front door and heading into the kitchen to say hello. He knew she'd come from delivering presents at the children's hospital, and because he knew her so well, he didn't say anything, just let her lean into his side, inhaling the soothing smells of food and home and him.
"It breaks my heart," she whispered, her eyes closed.
He turned off the stove and pulled her into his arms, stroking her back. "I know, Fireheart."
She sniffled. "I'm scared, Ro."
"I wish I knew what to tell you," he breathed, his heart breaking for her. She didn't say anything, just rested her head against his shoulder and let him hold her, his solid, warm silence her rock.
~
Rowan woke up the next morning to find a plain green envelope lying atop Aelin's pillow, her half of the bed still rumpled from when she got up. Hearing the shower running in the background, he could tell she was there, so he reached over and picked up the envelope, which bore his name in his wife's loopy cursive.
Sliding one finger under the envelope's flap, he opened it up and withdrew a Christmas card, Aelin's design work evident in the watercolor painting of a smiling cherub, a holly sprig in its hand. A soft grin slipping across his face, he opened up the card.
And his brain stalled again.
When she emerged from the shower, Aelin found him staring at the card in wordless shock, his jaw hanging open, gaping at the pair of little black-and-white photos she'd tucked into the card.
He lifted his eyes to her, tears spilling down his cheeks. "Aelin--are you--" He took a deep, shuddering breath. "Are you serious?"
A smile brighter than the sun split her face as she nodded, dropping down onto the bed beside him, letting her bathrobe fall open and settling his hand atop her stomach. "Ten weeks, and I had no idea."
"Aelin," he breathed, his other hand cupping her face, hardly daring to believe the precious secret she'd revealed. "I--how?"
"Doctor said the tests I took must have been false negatives, though she wasn't sure how that happened." Aelin threaded her fingers through his, resting their hands on the faint, barely noticeable swell of her belly. "It's true, my love. We're having a baby."
"I love you so much," Rowan whispered, kissing her soft and slow and deep, powerful joy radiating across his expression. Slowly, he moved down, settled himself in her lap, and pressed his lips to her belly. "I love you, little one."
Tears spilled down Aelin's cheeks, her heart near to bursting. "We love you too, Ro." She beamed through her emotions, carding her fingers through his hair. "Dad."
~~~
TAGS:
@charlizeed
@cretaceous-therapod
@clea-nightingale
@autumnbabylon
@nerdperson524
@fireheartwhitethorn4ever
@morganofthewildfire
@rowanaelinn
@wesupremeginger
@stardelia
@shanias-world
@mybloodrunsblue
@swankii-art-teacher
@wordsafterhours
@cookiemonsterwholovesbooks
@violet-mermaid7
@holdthefrickup
@goddess-aelin
@rowaelinismyotp
@dealfea
@irondork
@elentiyawhitethorn
@live-the-fangirl-life
@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell
@chronicchthonic14
@lovely-dove-zee
@sweet-but-stormy
@hanging-from-a-cliff
@jorjy-jo
@rowaelinrambling
@thegreyj
@silentquartz
@backtobl4ck
@throneofus7
@elizarikaallen
@llyncooljones
@booknerdproblems
@julemmaes
@earthtolinds
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a comic/zine about coyotes
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Aziracrow Vinylatte reverse AU???? Yes.
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underground fighter au goes crazy (inspired by this threadfic over on twitter)
early access + nsfw on patreon
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"do the opposite of what people tell you to do"
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there's always a kiss scene that usually happens while the movie starts to end, right?
aka how beyond the spiderverse ends
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here's some old unfinished art that i dont plan on finishing anymore, but not posting it feels like a waste too 😔
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‘why would zuko do that’ he is sixteen years old. ‘i don’t understand zuko’ are you or have you been sixteen years old. ‘zuko just makes bad decisions’ he is sixteen years old. ‘zuko burned down kyoshi island’ he’s literally sixteen years old. ‘zuko kidnapped a twelve year old and dragged him through the snow for hours’ yeah sure but he was sixteen years old. ‘zuko hired an assassin to capture aang, and said assassin went rogue and attempted to kill everyone’ yeah well he’s not good at critical thinking. he’s sixteen years old
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ken & shinjiro
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fence-time · 3 months
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Can you draw Lizzie and Skizz because of this post?
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Omg they make the bi flag..
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almondpiglet · 29 days
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ITS SERIZAWAS BDAY TODAY!! IM SO GRATEFUL FOR THIS MAN YALL!!
sns and the kids after celebrating all day long... having sweet lil dreams
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some-bunniii · 2 months
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ayo some luci angst just popped into my head, like….
imagine Lucifer falling in love with an employee at the hotel but their soul is owned by alastor and like?? luci is not happy about that.
*slams google docs on table, opens random 1.2k wrd snippet #234* behold…
x: GN!reader, no use of y/n
EDIT: read the full fic here
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“What is this?” 
Lucifer had asked suddenly, his pupils dilated, trained on something against your throat. 
You sat on the edge of your bed, thumbs rubbing together in a soothing motion as you watched him move closer to you. Gulping, you parted your lips to speak.
You didn’t get a chance to say anything, before his hand gingerly lifted towards you. His nail grazed against your collarbone, and heat blossomed underneath your skin from his touch. 
‘Please, just stop here,’ you silently begged, eyes squeezing shut as his finger rested against your figure, ‘don’t ruin this moment by digging any farther.’
Your reaction only spurred him, however. Lucifer’s eyes narrowed, his pupils thin slits now as he watched you.
Slowly, his finger trailed upward, skin brushing softly against yours as he traced the invisible force only a powerful demon could see. Your heart beat rapidly in your chest, every movement of his only quickening its pace. 
Until his hand stopped, right in the middle of your neck, and you felt a sizzling against your skin. The heat was becoming too much, and you wanted to pull away from his touch. You didn’t, instead, you tensed, deathly still before him.
A soft golden light illuminated from Lucifer’s palm, as his fingers wrapped around an invisible object. A shadow formed in his grip, and he tugged at it, that glow in his palm growing stronger.
Backing away, he pulled a long, thin chain from your figure, it snaked from your throat as it followed his grasp.
He yanked it harshly, as if trying to free you of a parasite that found a home deep in your bones. But it only dragged across the floor, refusing to dislodge itself from your body.
A thick, metal collar snuggly encompassed your throat. The chain locked tightly against it, a vivid reminder of your poor decisions.
Lucifer’s palm slid across the cold, metal links. Eldritch magic seeped from its form in the shroud of thick fog. Archaic symbols danced at the edge of your vision as its glow illuminated Lucifer’s unreadable expression.
The chain was a sickly green, its harsh glow an annoyance to his eyes. It was embedded with a dark, chilling magic. Whispers of untold horrors and ancient curses coiling around you, promises of a fate worse than death. 
Lucifer could practically smell it, that red demon's aura as it encircled around your frame. A twisted signature, practically scrawled across your forehead like a stamp of ownership.
Oh, the audacity of a person to take such a kind, selfless soul and rip it away from its owner. 
You weren’t some dog to be beckoned at the flick of a wrist. You were so much more than that, you deserved so much more than that. 
Yet here you were, the clasp around your neck like a shadowed hand, softly squeezing the life out of your eyes. He could see it, clear as day.
Small, white horns protruded from his head as he clenched the chain tighter. He tugged it once, twice, as if testing its durability. You leaned back slightly, the chain becoming taught between the two of you.
That collar around your throat kept you locked in place, as you watched him turn the chain in his hands. For a moment, Lucifer’s figure melded into the horrid shadow of your owner, and your eyes widened in fear at your delusion.
You could see it, feel it. Your stomach brushing the stained carpet beneath you with that haunting figure bent in a sickly, twisted angle in front you. That chain wrapped around the radio demon’s hand as he threatened you with terrible acts if you failed to stay in line.
Seeing your face contort into pained anguish only caused Lucifer to bare his teeth slightly, the sharp edges glinting in the light.
Seeing it so deeply entwined with your very being only further spurred the king’s anger. It seeped quietly from him, his grip tight against the chains as if trying to snap them with his bare hands.
“Who did this?” He hissed, his gaze boring into yours. He wanted to hear you say that demon’s name, wanted to hear you confirm the truth that was so obvious in front of him. 
You knew he wasn’t angry at you, but still you bowed your head slightly. Averting your gaze from his pleading eyes, shame slowly clawing at your stomach. For a moment, you felt like throwing up. Wanting to rid yourself of the terrible feeling that was seeping into your skin.
You felt like crying, or throwing yourself into his arms. Wanting to melt into his hold, and be told again and again that everything would be alright. That the most powerful man in hell would come to your rescue.
But, deals that bartered in souls are a much more difficult magic to conquer.
Fighting the urge to collapse into his embrace, you steeled yourself. Hands planted against your knees, back straight in a pathetic attempt to have some kind of power in this moment. 
Your eyes sullenly traced across the harsh links of the chain, its form all too familiar by now. Yet, it still caused such grief in your bones no matter how many times you looked upon it over the years.
Slowly, your eyes shifted to meet his gaze. Your lips curved into a frown at his expression, and your predicament.
How were you supposed to tell the love of your life your soul didn’t belong to you? That you were trapped in a deal of your own making? 
Curse that little fine line in your deal that kept your mouth sealed shut, that prevented you from uttering his name.
“I-I..” You desperately tried to speak, to tell him the truth, but that invisible hand that pulled at your tongue forced your silence. Tears pricked at your eyes, the desperation in them evident as your attempts to explain only died behind those pretty lips of yours.
As your mouth shut in frustration, Lucifer’s anger only heightened. His eyes flared into a blood-red glow, a harsh change from that soft yellow radiance you often found yourself lost in.
He pivoted harshly away, his voice contorting into a snarl as he stalked out of the room. His overcoat appeared atop his shoulders, and it swished behind him as he moved. 
Lucifer’s thoughts were too tangled with the images of his claws wrapping around the deal-makers throat to sit there and console you.
The tears that had threatened to spill finally rolled down your cheeks, your lip quivering as your eyes lingered on the doorway he had just exited. His thoughts too mangled with the image of his claws wrapping around the deal-makers throat to sit there and console you.
Placing your face into your hands, you sobbed quietly. 
Oh, how that regret had begun to consume you as you continued to wallow in your self-pity. 
Regret, for thinking that giving away your soul was a simple feat. That somehow, you’d still be happy after the fact. 
Regret, for falling in love when you knew the deal that kept you to that deer demon’s side would never allow you to enjoy such a fleeting emotion. No matter how hard you clawed to Lucifer’s soft embrace, that chain would always be there to drag you back. 
Those soft whispers of affections, of promises you couldn’t keep. Knowing, one day, that constant-smiling demon could play his little games and tear you away from your lover’s hold forever.
Oh, what a lovestruck idiot you are. 
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thoughts?? this is just an interesting concept to me and i rlly wanted to share it with you guys! i woke up at like 4:30 am today and was like ‘what if..’ and this is what came of it haha
and mmm alastor makes a such a good bad guy too depending on the context x)
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sukugo · 3 months
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this post is peak sukugo energy
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plus a version with a bloody sukuna
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grezzirossi · 8 months
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My support mains (dis)adventures
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okaykois · 1 year
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i’m waiting so patiently for separate ways dlc :-)
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diedoverahat · 5 months
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A Small Favor.
*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧
part one!
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pairing: mike schmidt x afab!reader
summary: the stress of his new job is taking a toll on mike. he did such a good job helping you out, so you decide to repay the favor.
word count: 2.5k+
warnings: 18+! MDNI! oral sex (m!receiving), vaginal fingering, handjobs, heavy on the praise, munch!mike always.
authors note: the heavily heavily HEAVILY requested part two is finally done. (quite literally wrote this instead of listening to my bio lecture) i still can't believe that fic has gotten so much traction, i hope this one measures up! it got waaaay more angsty near the end than i thought it would hehe also i decided to include everyone commenting under part one requesting part two in the taglist of this fic so you're welcome lol mwah <3
*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧
It had been one week and three days since the couch incident, which is what you’ve lovingly taken to calling whatever happened between you and Mike. One week and three whole days of Mike dancing around you and the elephant in the room.
The morning after the couch incident he practically ran out the door taking Abby to school when you tried to bring it up. The next time you attempted to have “the talk” he stuttered out an excuse before retreating to the safety of his bedroom, so you gave up.
You know that there’s something between Mike and you that crosses the line of just friends, you both felt something change that night, but getting him to face his feelings and actually admit that will take work.
It's another night of sitting on Mike's couch mulling over what to do about the whole situation when you hear the front door open. You're shocked at first, usually you're asleep by the time Mike gets home. Sure enough when you check the clock it reads 6:33 in bulky red characters. Apparently, time flies when you're obsessing over how to get your friend turned complicated-accidental-one-night-stand to admit they have feelings for you.
You try (and fail) not to listen in on every move Mike makes in the kitchen, fighting to keeping your gaze trained on the TV as he makes his way to the living room.
In your eyes peripheral vision you see him begin to make his way to the couch, but he hesitates when his eyes fall on you. He awkwardly hovers between the two rooms for a few seconds until he takes a breath and walks over to the couch.
Mike sits next to you on the couch with a soft grunt. You wrestle with the need to look at him fully, but you can see out of the corner of your eye he's taken off his work boots and vest. His hair is sticking out at weird angles, curls frizzy and unruly. Your hand twitches against your thigh with the want to run your fingers through them.
You can feel your heart beat faster, struggling to sit still in the thick tension surrounding the two of you. You flick your eyes back to the TV in a vain attempt to focus on anything other than Mike.
Eventually, you lose the fight with your screaming inner monologue and chance a sideways glace in his direction. You're beyond surprised to find him already looking at you.
You stare back, a deer caught in headlights. The dim light coming from the TV highlights his eyes. Mike opens his mouth to seemingly break the silence but he stops himself short of actually speaking. You can see him fiddling nervously with the hem of his shirt.
It’s silent for a beat before you decide to speak up.
“Hi.” You say, it's a whisper but you might have well just yelled with how it cuts into the air between the two of you. Mike lets out what might be laugh, it sounds forced. "Hi." He replies stiffly.
"Home later than usual." You point out, fidgeting with your nail. Mike's home a little after 6: everyday, him being home 30 minutes late is odd.
Mike nods, he lets his head fall onto the back of the couch allowing his eyes to slip closed as he does. "Yeah," He replies, the position of his head allows you to get your greedy fill of his sharp jawline. "Jobs been hell."
You don't respond, but you know. Mike's been haggard recently, and not just because of the couch incident. The bags under his eyes have gotten worse, he's been forgetful, not to mention how much more neurotic and paranoid he's been.
Mike has been a wreck these past couple of days, and you want nothing more than to help him feel good. If not for just a few minutes.
You take a chance, and move to let your hand rest over his jean clad thigh. Mike tenses up immediately but doesn’t move to run or push your hand off.
"I could help you,” You say quietly, forcing yourself to keep eye contact. Mike's wide eyes flit rapidly between your eyes and lips. “Help you relax…” You trail off, voice barely above a whisper.
Your offer hangs heavy in the silence that settles. Mike just stares at you, after a while you start to regret making such a bold move. There’s an apology’s on the tip of your tongue, but when you start taking your hand off Mikes thigh he quickly grabs your wrist.
Your eyes snap back up to meet Mikes. His pupils are blown out, black encompassing warm brown. His tongue comes out to swipe across his bottom lip.
“You can...” Mike says simply, guiding your hand back to his thigh. Only he places it much higher up, high enough that you can feel the rough metal of his zipper brushing against the tip of your pinkie. "I need it." He breathes out desperately, eyes big and pleading. You allow yourself a second to just watch Mikes face before you start to move with a purpose.
You snake your hand lower, finding the already hard length of his cock through the rough material of his jeans. Mirroring what he did to you those ten days ago, you start to grind the heel of your hand against him.
Mike shudders, eyes fluttering shut at your touch. You can physically see tension slowly exit his body, leaving him slack and relaxed enough to sink deeper into the couch cushions.
The sight of him at ease and comfortable lights a fire in you. You feel a deep primal need to care for him, to make him feel good.
Patience wearing thin, you reach for the button of his jeans. Even in your arousal induced haste, you take a beat to appreciate the swell of Mike's cock pressing up against the denim. If this was any other time, you'd want to draw it out. To tease Mike until he can't take it anymore, but now is not any other time.
You pop the button to Mike's jeans, dragging the zipper down swiftly and pulling the flaps of his jeans open to frame his lewdly tented boxers. You can hear Mikes breath hitch, unable to keep from squirming under your intense gaze. The thin material leaves nothing to the imagination, the length and girth of him on display. There's a growing wet patch near the tip that's turned the light blue fabric dark and slick. An ache starts deep in your core, anticipation making you feel warm all over.
Slowly, you tug his boxers down enough for his cock to spring free and smack up against his stomach. "Ah! Shit," He hisses, hands balling up into fists by his sides.
Mike's dick is perfect. A nice length and girth you know will have your jaw aching in the best way later. The tip a soft pink color, and steadily leaking a stream of pre-come.
"I want to blow you," You say softly, getting close to Mike so your lips brush over his ear with every word. He shivers, mouth dropping open in a quiet moan. "Will you let me?"
Mike nods his head frantically. "Please," He pants, chest rising and falling quickly. "Please, I want it."
His begging is music to your ears.
You slide off the couch, kneeling between Mike's spread thighs. His straining cock makes your mouth water in anticipation. Holding the base in your hand, you lean forward to lick a board stripe from root to tip. Moaning at the heady taste and velvety feel of him on your tongue.
"God." Mike groans at the feel of your tongue.
You pull off with a slick pop, breaking a small thread of saliva trailing from the head of Mike's dick to your lips with your tongue. You lave over the tip, looking up to find Mike staring at you flushed and dark-eyed. You keep the eye contact as you sink back down, beginning to build up a rhythm.
Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Mike raise his hands before hesitating, and dropping them back down to the couch cushion. You can tell he wants to touch you, but he’s unsure of himself. You take his hands in yours, and place them on the top of your head.
At first he just sort of holds your head, overthinking what to do even with your permission. You’d laugh if you weren’t so busy preening over the feel of his unfairly big hands holding your head delicately, like he might break you.
“Fuck, your mouth…” Mike whispers, his words trailing off as he watches your lips work over his throbbing cock. His confidence grows, finally allowing himself to run his fingers through your hair and gather it in a loose fistful. Your moan of encouragement has him tightening his grip just a touch.
“Jesus,” Mike breathes quietly, you give him a lick underneath the head of his cock in response. "Fuck. Feels so good.”
You hum in response, working Mike's cock faster to draw out more of those whimpers that he can't hold in. Hollowing your cheeks and sinking down towards the circle of your fist still holding the base of his cock with wet, slick slurping sounds.
Mike's noises have gotten progressively louder by the second, you can feel his pulse beating wildly against your tongue through the vein running up his cock. You know he's close, and you're desperate to make him come.
You give him one long languid suck, swirling your tongue over the head as you pull off. His cock is slick with your spit, pulsing warningly. You use the wetness of your saliva as a makeshift lube to start stroking over him slowly.
"How's it feel, Mike?" You purr sensually,
When you sink back down, you don't break eye contact. Mike's eyes roll back into his head, the way his lips part on a sharp gasp, how his back arches off the couch, how his fist tightens even more around your hair.
Above you, Mike grunts, "Oh fuck, baby," His back arches, a rough gasp torn from his throat. The hand in your hair tugs sharply as he chokes out, "Gonna come, shit, gonna fucking come."
Mike shouts hoarsely, hips stuttering as he starts to come. His cock gives one final twitch in your mouth before he pumps load after load of warm come into your mouth. You moan loudly at the taste of his release coating your taste buds, swallowing what pools on your tongue routinely.
You continue to work your mouth over his cock, bringing Mike through the aftershocks of his orgasm, reveling in the broken sounds he keeps making. You lave your tongue over him savoring the taste of him, until he's tugging at your hair to pull you off his sensitive cock.
"C'mere, c'mere." He whines desperately. You’ve barely come up for air before Mike is bodily dragging you into his lap and kissing you like he needs it more than air.
His hand darts down your body and into your sweats. Mike moans in your mouth at the feel of your lacy panties absolutely soaked with your arousal. He wastes no time in finding your clit, rubbing tight circles over it with his thumb drawing a loud moan from your lips.
"Shit," You exclaim, nails digging into Mike's forearm. Your hips buck up into his touch, chasing his touch. "Mike..." You whine, needing him to do more.
"You drive me fucking crazy," He whispers roughly against the side of your face, sliding his pointer finger through the slick wetness of your folds. "I can't stop thinking about you."
“Oh god, Mike.” His fingers feel amazing, rubbing you in all the right places, his words lighting a fire in your stomach.
Mike gathers your wetness before pushing his thick middle finger in your tight heat. Your own moan gets drowned out by his guttural groan at the feeling of you clenching down on his finger.
“Fuck, you’re so wet.” He moans, thrusting his finger in and out of your aching pussy slowly. "You're so perfect, so perfect for me." Mikes lips trail kisses down your jaw as he adds a second finger into your dripping pussy, brushing against the spot inside you that sends white hot sparks of pleasure zinging up your spine.
"How's that feel?" He asks roughly, throwing your earlier teasing back in your face. You moan wantonly, hips moving grinding down as you ride his fingers in earnest.
Mike angles his hand in a way that lets his fingers thrust into you, hitting your g-spot all while the palm of his hand grinds into your clit
“I’m gonna come, Mike,” You whine desperately, hips stuttering as you tip over the edge. “I’m coming.”
"Yes, come for me." Mike whispers, lips brushing over your cheek.
Your chest heaves as you come down from your orgasm, collapsing against Mikes chest. You're an absolute mess, thighs shaking and sweat dripping down your back. A hiss escapes your mouth as Mike eases his fingers out of your twitching pussy. "Sorry." He whispers softly, kissing the top of your head tenderly.
You allow yourself to lay on his chest with his strong arms around your waist, keeping you close. So close you can feel his warm breath puffing out against your neck.
You don't want to let it, but reality sets in. "Are you gonna run away in the morning?" Your voice is so quiet you don't know if Mike even heard, and you can't force yourself to look up at him.
It takes him a second to register your words, you don't have to look at him to know he's wincing. "I," Mike starts, trying to find the right words. "I don't know." He admits, lips brushing against your hair.
The anger mixed with shame and embarrassment is quick to come, you scoff pushing off Mike's chest so you can go home. "Of course." You spit bitterly.
"Wait!" He rushes out, arms tightening on your waist to stop you leaving.
"What?" You bite out bitterly, whipping your head around to stare daggers at Mike. It backfires on you almost immediately, forcing you to stare into his big sad dumb eyes. He falters, mouth opening and closing as he fumbles to say anything.
You can't help that the look in his eyes tames your anger ever so slightly. The way he's silently pleading with you to stay, his brows drawn in concern and lips pulled down in a frown. Your steely resolve crumbles pathetically.
"What?" You repeat quietly. Mike flounders for a second more, before he finally gives in. "Please stay." He exhales softly, hands planting themselves on your hips, giving them a light squeeze..
Maybe it's your shitty resolve, maybe it's the post orgasm afterglow clouding your judgement, maybe it's the earnest look in Mike's eyes that keeps you from pushing out of his grip and out the door, but you just can't bring yourself to leave.
You stare back at him wrestling with your thoughts, but it's a losing game and you know that.
"Okay," You whisper slowly, settling yourself back down into his lap. "I'll stay."
*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧
i could NOT figure out how to end this, but maybe i could do a part three? would literally anyone want that?
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